In the Shadow of a Nightmare
by Tribble Master
Summary: The shadows are moving in a lullaby of horror. Kirk thinks the ship is haunted. Spock has nightmares. And the darkness is growing.
1. Only A Dream

**Hello, this is an old story. It was ****originally** suggested that I rewrite this and make it better. Well, some odd years later I've become more than a giggly teenager. Let's see how well this fares in round two, eh?  


* * *

**Chapter One: Only A Dream**  
In our nightmares are  
The secrets we keep  
Those hidden fears that grow  
Keeping us from sleep

* * *

The pristine city was a lullaby of safety. Kirk felt a shiver run through him, it was almost to perfect. Ensign Jason next to him muttered, "This city gives me the creeps."

Kirk silently agreed. Spock wouldn't admit that he felt it to. He catalogued the facts with precision, not with speculation. Spock raised on eyebrow at the data. "Captain, every building has beds in it."

Kirk shrugged. "Yeah? What's that supposed to mean Spock?"

Spock looked up. "I mean just beds. Even in their places of worship. Nothing else."

"Maybe they're narcoleptic." Kirk suggested.

"Fascinating." Spock muttered as he wandered around the city. The buildings were metallic and new, some floors carpeted, some floors with tiles, and all with beds. Each bed was arranged differently depending on the owner's tastes. The light fixtures, however, were nonexistent. Kirk walked in and out of different houses. He admired the craftsmanship, but warning bells were ringing in his head.

Ensign Josh walked out of the temple. "Captain, I just checked out their religious centers… The carvings detailed on the bedposts are unbelievably detailed."

Spock held up his tricorder. "I have collected all the photos I need."

Kirk nodded. "Then I guess we should beam up and let the computer process the data."

"Yes sir," Spock was already signaling to the other two scientists to return to the landing site.

As they stood with the Captain pulling out his communicator Spock blinked. For a moment he thought he had seen independent movement in Kirk's shadow. Shaking it off, he told no one, not even about his own sense of fear.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Kirk's breath was heavy and his eye lids fluttered open. Sleep was taunting only inches away and he could not reach it. Already his sheets were twisted from all his turning as he rolled to face the wall. That's when he saw a pool of black forming underneath his bead. The blackness began to rise and take the form of a human.

Blood dripped into the newly born human's left eye. Laser's left their mark on his charred shoulder. His clothes were ripped. His body was racked with wounds, although he stood up straight and proud. Anger boiled in his eyes as they locked with the troubled figure on the bed. To the observer it would seem there were two Captain Kirks.

"Captain." He said bitter and mocking. "What a good job in command you've done, Captain. They're all dead now- and it's your fault."

The whole sentence was becoming a familiar mockery. A voice mimicking Kirk's, barely a shout so only he could hear it.

He threw off his covers and grabbed the statue on his bed head headboard. "Who are you," he growled brandishing the weapon.

"I am Captain James Tiberius Kirk, failure," the wounded being said, making a bow.

"You're not real!" the Captain hit it over and over again. It never flinched but continued to murmur _it's your fault_.

The Captain's breath became labored, and the duplicate Kirk touched the Captain's forehead with a slender finger. It then became all black and sunk beneath the bed into darkness. Kirk sunk to his knees looking at the broken statue in his hand. He felt dizzy now that the shadow was gone.

He stood up and went to pull on a shirt, "It wasn't real…"

This had to stop, he decided. That was the third night since visiting the planet he'd seen that nightmare. He would have to see Bones to help him get some sleep. And then maintenance to fix his room. He sighed. The ship was running out of standard issue sheets.

o-o-o-o-o

"You've got to sleep Jim," Bones said bandaging Jim's knuckles after another disastrous nightmare. This fourth night, he had even had sleeping pills meddling with his system.

The Captain shrugged. This time he had tried punching it but only managed to hit a wall. "Sorry, Bones, but the pills just don't work."

McCoy gave him a look of disbelief. "Now, Jim those pills could have kept _Spock _asleep."

"I doubt that Doctor," Spock said as he entered sickbay.

"It's just that every night it comes and it drains me of…of…" Kirk yawned, "I'm too tired to think. Tell me if you actually have something to report Spock."

"Nothing Captian, but the pictures reveal a fascinating history." Spock recited.

"Great." Kirk rolled his eyes. "Keep up the good work."

Spock started to tell him that he'd seen Kirk's shadow move on the planet, but the Captain was already storming out. "I'll be on the bridge."

Kirk went about the day running on low energy and stimulants. As the day wound down he dreaded going back to his quarters. Entering the room he immediately checked the thermostat. It wasn't supposed to feel as cold as it did.

He began to get ready for bed, biding his time until he would have to sleep. As Jim lay down he sensed its approach. He pulled the covers above his shoulders and the pillow over his head. Rolling on his back he hopped tonight he wouldn't have to look at the twisted prophecy.

"It's your fault," it said again as it appeared. This time it brandished a knife.

"Leave me alone," he moaned.

It advanced smiling. "Leave you _alone? _Captain, my Captain, you'll be alone soon enough… that's what happens when you kill your crew."

The blade sunk into his left shoulder blade. He immediately woke up yelling. He threw his pillow aside and reached out to strangle the demon. The vicious image laughed at his defense.

Outside the hallway, Spock stopped as he heard a yell. He opened the door, letting light spill into the darkened quarters. Spock stood bathed in light from the hallway making him look like an angel of relief. Before he was seen, the shadow shrunk away, blending into the darkness.

Jim pressed a hand into his shoulder to stem the bleeding. He didn't feel as drained this time, as adrenaline coursed through his veins. "Tell me you saw that too."

Spock blinked. What he saw was his commanding officer bleeding, knife in hand, from a probably self-inflicted wound. Although at the same time he had to admit…his head nodded solemnly, "I saw a shape, Jim, possibly human…"

"Damit Spock! It was more than human it was…" Kirk looked at his blood stained sheets, mouth hung open.

Spock walked over and helped the man up. "Jim, I'm taking you to Sick Bay, you can sleep there."

Spock patiently began to walk with Jim draped one arm around his side and limped in pursuit. Focused entirely on the Captain, he missed the flicker his shadow made.

**.:To Be Continued:.**


	2. Remember Me

**Chapter Two: Remember Me  
**Did we ever meet?  
Outside of memories?  
Or was it only that  
You were my dream?

Kirk looked at his hand. It glowed and turned black seeming to melt and become a shadow. Despite these minor moments when he saw these black liquidations he was healing and sleeping much better here in sickbay. McCoy wanted him to talk to the therapist about the wound, but Jim continued to insist that it was that _thing _that made his see the nightmares. Kirk vehemently repeated it was the shadow's fault.

McCoy was ready to discharge him from sickbay, but instead of getting better, Kirk was sleeping more. His friend was always tired, and McCoy knew something was wrong. Turning his back from ICU, he started the recording with the flick of his finger.

**Stardate 770310.33 Medical Log. **The Captain continues to stay deep in slumber. Sometimes on the edge of comatose. If this worsens I will have no choice but to give Spock command.

Behind him in ICU, the patient shifted. His body melted into the bed, becoming all black, and then in an instant was the sleeping form of Captain Kirk. Jim sat straight up and looked at his hand murmuring about nightmares as the door came open. Spock surveyed the room, and headed straight for his friend. He was glad the McCoy had declared the wound the result of someone stabbing Jim, and not other way around. It was bad enough with crew gossip, he didn't want to believe his friend could be so desperate.

Spock lifted Kirk's hand feeling for a pulse, it was hardly there, and then suddenly erratic. Jim sat straight up, and his hazel eyes turned black in front of Spock. "Spock," Kirk gasped, twisting and taking a tight hold on Spock's right shoulder. "Take command, don't… the fears… overwhelm."

The former captain fell limp and the life monitors went dead. McCoy ran from his office, "What the hell have you done?"

"I didn't do…" Spock started to stammer.

McCoy was fuming, preparing a hypo of life saving medicine as the pulse resumed, but slow. McCoy looked at Spock. "You should go. He needs his rest."

Spock nodded numbly. "I'll be on the bridge." He turned to walk out the door, but stopped to look back. "And Doctor… he made me Captain."

"Thanks for the update." McCoy said dryly. "It looks like we've all got work to do."

o-o-o-o

His fear was no longer there, for he was fear. He had been ever since the day he had seen his worst nightmare come true.

Yba'llul smiled, trying to push back the memories, moving only to look up from his position under the bed in the infirmary. His first victim was showing the signs that he first saw in himself.

It was from a time when his city his world had been complete, and he was a child. Using his six arms to propel himself across the flower meadow, his city was only a silhouette in the sun. In this memory his home was a speck, and the sun was his friend. Now he, including everyone he knew, was a speck, and an enemy of the sun. It began with his games, and the demon capsule that fell from the sky. His skin had tickled and his spikes stood straight up. Curiosity was always getting him in trouble- and that day…

He was older now, he had seen many things. But that day he opened that mysterious capsule with widened eyes, and dreams of being a scientist. To his disappointment a gas escaped the item but nothing else.

He had started to see a change among his people. Their terrible fears got played out in the shadows with this new ability of his; to become someone's nightmare. It had been his shock to discover how quickly everyone succumbed to the shadows, changing with him. He hadn't needed a shadow to tell him, this was his worst fear.

He was no longer the same child from the meadow.. Never a scientist. Always a bearer of sorrow and plague. The first shadow, and eventually the fist child to destroy a city. The first to discover a hunger for fear.

The first to see Captain Kirk become a shadow. Satisfied he slid away. Shaking off the memories.

**_.:to be continued:.._**


	3. Shadows Within

**In this chapter there are references to another story of mine. What you should know: Spock made a fear gas (puts people in a coma and makes them imagine their worst fears), and put it in a canister. The story left off not saying exactly what he would do with it. And yes, Lullaby is the monster. **

**Chapter Three: Shadows Within  
**I'm a shadow of who you knew  
And who I used to be  
I'm awake for the first time  
The world will see

There was a flash in his memory as a blank spot became his past, and this mechanical healing room became his origin. Sliding from the bed he felt different but did not know why. It was a freedom, but also a curse. It was a world without friends except for the shadows, and few shadows ever talked. Except for Yba'llul one from the origin world, but he kept to himself whenever he tried to talk about this new form.

So he wondered discovering new tastes. On the first night the Sawbones gave him the taste of lonely immortality and he related. Then towards the third night the Talking One gave him the taste for confusion, a pressure to understand, but understanding nothing. He laughed, for he had understanding. Few joined him as he wandered the metal city, and that was fine. To his knowledge there were only two shadows, he and Yba'llul. Something always stopped him from harming the inhabitants of the city and making them one the shadows.

And then-

He found _Her, _his once goddess, and flew deep into her, ignoring the broken sanctity. Here in _Her _mechanical heart he felt no emotion. Begging her secrets from her bosom, a slew of images overcame him. Destruction, death, and decommission- To be useless, unloved, and un-remembered for once victories.

Anger overwhelmed him as this hit a cord deep inside. Triggering a time, a life, he had forgotten. On the bridge the lights flickered. Scotty said it was mechanical. The Vulcan Captain murmured allowed, "Fascinating."

Uhura was tired. It'd been a few days since the Captaincy had been given to Mr. Spock. In that time she had had growing nightmares made from a figure in her room. Both were making sleep, even a nap, impossible. As she opened her half closed eyes in recognition to conversation among the bridge she noticed her board was blinking. "Mr. Spock, uh, McCoy wants to talk to you from Sickbay."

"Thank you," Spock pressed a button on the armrest, "Spock here."

McCoy wasted no time, "Captain I have to talk to you."

The Vulcan raised both eyebrows. "Nothing you can say here?"

"Spock, I'd rather…in person."

The shadow moved closer and as he heard those words, the lights flickered on the bridge again. His once time brother spoke, "I'll be there in a moment, and you can tell me all the details." Once, in a dim flicker He saw himself included in such private conversations.

Beside him Yba'llul whispered, "You've failed them."

And so he fled towards Shuttle bay towards the cold vacuum of space to consult his forever comfort, the immortal stars.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Spock," McCoy began, his fingers tapping on the desk he sat at. "There has been several occurrences around here, and I think, well-people's worst fears are involved."

McCoy stopped tapping his fingers to rub his tired eyes, "Long and short Spock, did you really destroy that fear gas of yours?"

"Yes," Spock was rigid with his hands clasped behind his back. The gold command shirt gave him out of place look. "I ejected it into space. There is a 51.2 chance it is still in space, and a 48.8 chance that is it rotting in the depths of some world."

McCoy placed both hands palm down on the desk and pushed himself up. "You're damn sure?"

"98 percent."

"Spock, just in case, could you track its trajectory? Everyone here should be immune to it, but what if on the planet we picked up a different strain of it?"

"Yes, Doctor," and with that Spock turned and left, wondering where he left his notes. It never occurred this would happen.

McCoy yawned and walked over to his office. He was weary down to his bones, but nightmares always seemed to be close by. He looked over at the patient care unit before stepping into his office. Already there were a few more serious cases sleeping deeply in the medical beds, soon he guessed they would disappear if they didn't do something.

He looked at his shelves of books and his mind spun with the research he was going to have to do. It was time for him to take another stimulant.

**To Be Continued… **


	4. Trusting A Dream

**Chapter Four: Trusting a Dream**

I used to have my trust  
My beliefs that we could do  
What's right, but now  
All I have is a memory of you

* * *

"You sure about this Spock?" Jim shifted his weight tossing the canister back and forth.

Spock took it away from him, concerned it would drop. "Yes, Jim. I am."

Spock took a few steps forward and put the canister into a small metallic drawer. There was a pop sound as it clicked shut. The machine whirred for a moment then shot the canister in open space. "Very sure, Captain."

There was silence in the shuttle bay as both men where lost in thought. Spock reflected on that moment, so long ago, listening to the silence in his room. He had known from the beginning that it was wrong to put such a deadly thing in the open, but he'd thought it'd harmless floating out in space.

He scratched the back of his hand and flicked off the computer. The trajectory analysis was complete. It was true. Whatever the planet they had last visited had held, a key ingredient was his monstrous creation. The true question now: could this, for lack of a better term, shadow vampire be the evolutionary result?

Stretching his hands upwards, he brought them down on the comm. button. Arex, the night helm, answered softly as he had barely been awake, "Bridge."

"This is the Captain. Please adjust our present course to the last planet we visited."

"Yes, sir." Satisfied he turned it off, and sitting back down on his bed, immediately went into a deep meditative sleep. Nothing generally disturbed him, not even his flickering shadow.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

His mouth was dry. He hated himself. He knew feeding on the nightmares of this metallic city was wrong. He knew, but he didn't know. This cold room reflected him inwardly, until he noticed another shadow.

It was wobbly, and was still gripped in it's own fear. He flew to it, and if shadows had faces, he could have sworn it turned to stare him in the eye. It murmured over and over the same words, "And I tried so hard. It was my first planet survey. It killed them all. I tried so hard. I was left here. I am alone on this island. And I tried so hard. It was my first…"

The word _red shirt _popped into his mind. Shaken he flew away, promising himself that he would find out his past, and make finding a body his future. He needed help. Leaving, he called back, "go hide under a bed."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Yab'llul was stirring from his frozen position. He was a black pit and parts of him were starting to rise as his first friend and victim slid through the ventilation into the room. "This man is _mine,_" He said to Yab'llul.

Yab'llul hissed but knew he would profit more in the room called sickbay. The one formerly called Kirk would have hardly any success in eating the fears off one who had none.

He left, and like his nature, was as silent as the grave. Kirk paused for a second waiting, concentrating. His own memory was vaguer, but the memory of his victim was sharp. He saw himself, on the mind of the alien, using his telepathic abilities. With ease that came not from practice, but from the simply being, he formed an image he could not recognize.

His voice was cracked and unused. "Spock," the word was barely a whisperer. He said it again louder until the man came awake.

Like a defensive cat the Vulcan slid a foot away and stood up. "I do not believe you are real sir," the word sir was sarcastic, with an edge of bitterness.

Jim reached out a hand, but dropped it and shook his head. "I know you do not believe what I have become."

Kirk melted and slid behind his friend and re-formed. "But you must, or you cannot help me come back," his voice was stronger now.

Being in the original body was bringing back his mind, his purpose. It was also making Spock jump another foot away. He growled, "Explain."

Kirk sat on the bed and buried his head in his hands. This motion was simple and he missed its familiarity. "Yab'llul won't tell me. He came up with us from…from that planet. They take shade in the beds, hardly sleeping, just waiting to come out at night," he paused letting his words sink in. They were a logical re-statement of the facts. "Then they feed on fears, and if they've had enough they will turn their victims into one."

He looked up making eye contact. "I am one. I let none join this, this _curse, _but I see there are more shadows, he's not stopping…but…Tonight, he almost came to you. I stopped him Spock!"

A strong hand slapped him. Because of the body he felt it sting. Spock growled, "I don't know …"

Kirk stood cutting him off. "That's right. You do not know. Dammit! You're the one always telling me the odds!" His voice became deeper, "I don't sleep, and I've only been thinking, only puzzling this problem until I could remember at least a little! Spock, isn't this possible?"

Spock looked around. Logic told him there was no way Captain Kirk had just _floated_ back into being. Finding an empty glass bottle he held it out. "I will give you a chance. Will you come with me to see the doctor?"

Kirk nodded. "Place the bottle on the floor," he was already shrinking, his knees a black liquid. "I trust you." He tried to smile despite his current situation.

"I do not trust you." Spock said. The Vulcan's eyebrow was raised as the bottled filled with the murky remains of the Captain and corked it tight, already he starting to rethink this situation. How could one cork a nightmare, a willing one, too, unless he was dreaming?

Spock told himself that he was awake. He looked at the bottle, wondering if Kirk was watching him. He doubts increased as minutes later in the turbo lift he heard read alert sound. "Emergency override," he ordered the computer.

Some on the bridge wondered why Spock had a jar under his arm; no less a jar that was filled with the twisting black ooze. The more professional members though concerned themselves with the alarm at three am announcing a de-cloaking Romulan warship.

Spock knew what no others knew and took special care with the object he held. The jar was set on an engineering chair, with a clear view of the screen where a white blast of a photon torpedo was harmlessly hitting the defense shields.

M'press, the current communications officer, mentioned, "We are being hailed sir, by the ship."

Taking a position of formality, the Captain signaled to put it one the screen. The Romulan Sub-commander wasted no time, "Good morning. That was a wake up call. We come for a drug, Federation Friends. We will take it by force, or we will take it with your cooperation. You have one hour to decide. Information will be provided with your acceptance."

Before he could inform that he was on the far side of the neutral zone, that their ship was formally bound to leave, that they would give medical aid willing, the communication was cut. Spock looked from the jar to the screen, "Fascinating."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Commander?" the Sub-Commander turned from the screen to his superior officer, "why do we need this drug?"

The Commander's face with flushed with excitement, as she thought of the glory that would await her if they returned successful. In fact there was no one on her ship that wasn't completely healthy or in need of medical drugs. "So they will lower their shields," she said with a smile. Turning from the bridge, she decided walked satisfied to her room.

The Sub-commander wondered. Could this not be the _Enterprise__'s _advantage too? Sometimes space-bound duty was a nightmare.

--**_to be continued—_**


	5. Stay Awake

**Chapter Five: Stay Awake  
**Every night I fight  
To stay awake  
for fear there be  
Memories to face

McCoy rubbed a tired hand against his temple. He looked back up his friends, slowly accepting reality. He slammed his fist into the desk, "Damnit, Jim!"

He shifted his eyes from one coworker to the other. Kirk shrugged, and Spock raised an eyebrow. Spock opened his mouth, but McCoy raised his hand to silence him.

McCoy shook his head, "There's nothing we can do!" He paused, "Okay, we're terribly happy you came back but--- We can't save you; help you with whatever it is you're running from! Hell, we can't even save our selves!"

Spock pulled the chair out, and sat in it facing McCoy. "Doctor, surely we can…"

"Spock, I don't think you realize how serious this is." McCoy held up his hand, it became an all black liquid and then solidified. In a deep tone the Doctor added, "The stimulants are keeping me whole. But what's going to keep this ship whole?"

"I have a plan," Spock said, watching McCoy open up his cabinet.

"Oh? And what the hell is that?" The Doctor withdrew a hypo, and injected it into his arm. A shudder went through his body as he took in a deep breath.

Jerking a thumb at Kirk the Vulcan said one word, "Him."

McCoy looked at Kirk, "what can he do?"

Kirk smiled, walked behind Spock, never bothering to reappear. McCoy looked at Spock, and behind him. "Where'd he go?" he growled.

"Wait." Spock said softly.

No noise was heard as a Romulan warrior appeared behind McCoy with its weapon brandished. In a rough voice, harsh, and scratchy, terrifyingly real, "Boo."

McCoy jumped up taking the decorative scalpel from his desk, plunging it into his enemy's heart. His enemy's face twisted into shock as the wound dribbled black; slowly the whole thing became black and melted into a pool on the floor. The doctor blinked was again left with silence and shadows. "What was that!"

"Kirk."

Spock's shadow then began to rise, and Jim was beside him. McCoy scratched his head, "That might work."

Kirk stepped forward, arms crossed, and completely smug. "Well almost. We scanned the Romulan ship, and we know they're not here to be friends. What we wanted to know was, can you prepare a canister of poison gas with a time delay device?"

McCoy's jaw dropped, "You can't be serious! You'd be dropping the shields!" He put his hands on his desk propelling himself backwards and upright. Taking it in, he started to pace the room.

Spock chose his next words carefully. "And so will they. Prepare the canister."

He unscrewed the empty glass jar sitting on the table and lowered it to the ground. "The captain and I will be on the bridge."

Tightening the seal as he left, Spock left McCoy as he began to ponder the problem.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

She smiled. In her office was a screen that showed her the conversation being carried out. Their Federation friends were idiots. She was a Commander—a genius—and she damn well deserved the credit. Brining home a crippled _Enterprise_would prove it.

The disease was a more recent idea inspired by the sickening feeling she got from the idea of the Federation (there isn't even a Romulan word for such a disgusting thing but for now) _Pigs_ of actually wining their side of the universe.

She sat up straighter as she heard the first officer of the enemy utter the words she was waiting for. In one hour! The cure would be delivered! Those morons! They were actually going to drop the shields! It was so simple to trick them, now she understood why that damn fool Kirk always smiled. Because he always knew that he was going to win.

If she could wait one hour then she would have a life of luxury. Those were her thoughts. Not strategy, she had officers for that, not the risks, she had mathematicians to calculate that, no, only her only her greed. To pass the time she stepped into her personal quarters and undressed. Sleep consumed her instantly. Dreams touched her making a smile on her features, and for once her nightmare did not return.

She didn't think at all of the nightmare she had every night, the one of failure. She figured it was the same type of dream with all captains. Still it touched her deep, at least usually, but luckily today she was nightmare free.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Transportation complete, Captain," Chief Kyle announced taking a step back from the consul. Spock took in a deep breath, "very well. I will be…"

The ship rocked with the sudden motion of torpedoes hitting the hull. Spock ran out the door, "…on the bridge."

Sulu, the natural helm he was, pulled the shields up immediately after the transport, insuring that there was only minimal damage to the ship. Unless something drastic happened over on their end, the_ Enterprise _would fail under the Romulan's disruptor. He returned torpedo fire as Spock stepped on the bridge issuing the orders he had just completed.

The Romulan War Bird did not ready their main weapon. Sulu knew vaguely of the plan Spock had started but was still uneasy as Spock said; "Now we wait for his signal."

Sulu looked down at his feet, letting his head drop, and yawned. He noticed the Captain's chair had a moving shadow. Perhaps a watching shadow. _Perhaps, Dr. McCoy needs to give me a stimulant, _he decided.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The canister's rattled on the transporters pad. There was a click as the timer hit zero, and with soft hiss it opened. Unfurling form the small opening was a thin gas, rusty red, perfectly matching the walls. The guards in the room, taking no notice of the rapid danger, took the heaviest dose and were immediately dead. Farther away the gas reached other Romulans through the ventilators. It was a smaller dosage and they surrendered to unconsciousness. A deep, deep sleep, but to the glass jar still unopened on the transportation pads a deep, deep vulnerability.

That made him pleased but he knew that there was more. Then the ship rocked, violently shaking his prison until it tipped over and shattered. He was free. He was hungry. There was a feast waiting.

He went through the cracks as shadows do, and tasted immortality as shadows do. Yet somehow it was unexciting and lonely. He moved on past his own nightmares.

**.:to be continued:.**


	6. Fleeting Hope

**Chapter Six: ** **Fleeting Hope  
**Relax a little more  
Take comfort while you can  
Because the darkness is growing  
Deep in the Shadow's land

The need for relaxation saved her. Instead of an hour of sleep she had ducked into the room reserved only for her use after thirty minutes. She needed a good hot Jacuzzi to soothe her nerves.

It was a round pool seven feet in diameter, five feet deep. The controls were automatically set with low intensity jets, and bubbles already popping in the room as her robe dropped. She submerged, letting her attention swim away from the air vents and cracks of the door. She wasn't here to pay attention to any one else, and she missed the movement by the door.

Black film coated the water, making the cool blue water a darker color underneath. She opened her eyes underwater and didn't understand immediately. Satisfied with the first plunge, it was time to resurface for a fresh breath of air. Her head came through the black film easily, but it coated her face, hair, and suddenly became harder as if making itself part of her. Opening her mouth to scream it was immediately filled with a sticky, sickening feeling.

She had not risen back in her command ship, but into the world of a nightmare.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

He enjoyed the commander the most. She was simple raw fear. Nothing fancy, his mere existence meant she was not flawless, that her defense was not impenetrable.

It was only fitting that he finished this one off completely. No need to create a new friend, no need to kill. But he did leave her empty, with out any breath of soul or sanity left floating in the water. He imagined that if he had lips, he would have loudly smacked them with a satisfaction.

Technology was not as complicated (or as hard to break) as they had made it sound. He continued his way to the bridge, praying he could proceed properly. On the way he blessed the crew with dreams.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Everything went as planned Sir?" Spock watched Kirk carefully.

The Kirk on the screen was communicating with him from the Romulan ship. Somehow, Spock sensed that something was off. There was something weird how Kirk never looked up, his eyes only focusing on his hands. "Uh-huh," he murmured, "Ready, to uh, beam aboard when ready…"

He remembered why and shook his head. "I'll give the order right away Sir. The canister will come aboard in two minuets."

Turning in the chair he gave a signal to Uhura. The man on the screen disappeared, and twitching Romulans where all he now saw. "I'm going to my quarters. Have the Captain brought to me there."

Once in the trubolift with the doors safely closed he slouched. Taking a deep breath he fell completely to sitting position. His facial features melted into black and he became all shadow. When the doors open nothing walked out, but something did exit. It moved towards the quarters of the Spock, and went in unannounced. He re-formed on the bed, hands behind his head, knees up.

"I assume the monster is back on board," Spock said turning from the computer to Kirk.

"Yes, I ordered he be brought here. In my container. How's it coming for you?"

Spock set down his clipboard. "I've found a way of restoring you, Kirk, the doctor, and anyone else. But you must find them and tell them."

"Good. Really? Bones now? I was so busy I didn't notice," he let out a heavy sigh, "I think we have another problem. He killed some of the Romulans. At the least he left them indeed of serious medical treatment. Starfleet's going to have a fit."

At that moment the door chimed, Kirk smiled easily sliding to hide under the bed. Spock raised an eyebrow before going to sit back down at his chair. "Open," Spock said.

Two security officers entered and set a container on the floor, then turned and left without a word. Spock knew it would happen, but it was of little importance at the moment. Hearing the door slide shut, Kirk re-formed in sitting position. "Should we let him out?"

Another shadow reformed in the corner of the room. In a southern drawl with arms crossed, it spoke, "I don't know if it's safe."

"This is so out of control."

The container shudder slightly as if to agree.

**To be continued**


	7. Save Me

**Chapter Seven: Save Me.**  
Save me from myself  
Save me from who I am.  
You can't. You won't.  
It's all part of the Shadow's plan.

McCoy crawled along the floor towards the table. His gut clenched as he reached out a shaky hand towards the table. He grabbed its edge, trying to raise himself closer to his redemption. They hypo lay there, mocking him as death came a little closer.

He had been dead for several days. Only the medication kept him whole. His body shuddered again, his muscles tightened and rebelled against movement. He paused for a breath, a mistake. Sleeping was his first mistake, sleeping on this dammed ship. It was cursed, and he regretted signing his name on the dotted line. Why did he want to be here? His convulsed again.

A shaking hand reached, grabbed on to the table with an iron grip. He tried to pull himself up, but his arms fell weak. He knew what he was now, but was not ready to accept.

Without the stimulant though, he had no choice. He fell, and melted into the carpet as a shadow. It made his mind dizzy, but he held on to himself.

What could he do now?

"You could talk to the Captain. You have telepathy now."

He shifted his position to see what lay under the hospital bed. There was another shadow in the room. "Who are you," he asked.

"I am Smanters, sir, security office, a month away form promotion. I was half-crazy when I spoke to the Captain. They're planning something."

"Would you like to come with me to find him?"

"No thank you. I'm hungry. I'll be in the nurses' quarters." With that the shadow fled to Jeffries tubes.

McCoy tried to take human form. It was hard however when no victim was present. He moved towards Spock's quarters. Inside a scene was already being played out. His name was being said, and he could read a visual image from their minds. Taking form he spoke, "I don't think it's safe…"

Kirk shook his head, taking a similar stance of crossed arms, "this is so out of control."

Spock walked toward the center of the room and put a hand on the container. "Gentlemen. Let's not stray from the original purpose of this informal meeting. I have found a way to end this…transformation."

The doctor stepped forward into more direct light, "Don't hold back on us you green blooded hobgoblin."

Doctor McCoy was still reeling in his new monstrous form, trying to take in the new perspective he had on the _Enterprise__._ Spock said simply, "Just be patient..."

McCoy felt anger surge in his form, "I'M A SHADOW! I EAT PEOPLE! I'M MY OWN WORST ENEMY! PATIENT MY ASS!"

During McCoy's fit of anger he lost control and become a multitude of things. He ended with panting breath as a blonde male Romulan dressed in a leather jacket.

Kirk smiled. "Bones, who's mind did you read that off of?"

Bones jerked a thumb at Spock, who in turn said, "As I was saying. We must reach this planet. You have to wait Doctor."

McCoy rolled his eyes, "why?"

Kirk kicked the canister. "Why the hell do you _think?" _

The canister fell over and a click echoed through the room.

"Shit."

Black oozed out, then bubbled, and took form. A teenage boy with short black spiky hair stood before them. "I hate that thing." He rubbed his sleeves, oddly enough he wore a plain red shirt. Scrappy ripped jeans as well.

Kirk looked over at Spock and shrugged. The teenage boy grunted. "I am Yba'llul. I am the monster. I am the thing under the bed. I have come from a world destroyed by curiosity…"

"So what, they're all cats?" McCoy murmured.

"I heard that sawbones. I am far more interested in getting back my true form."

"Can you show us," Spock inquired with a raised brow, "your true form that is."

The teenager shook his head sadly. "No. You have never seen it, and so I cannot draw the image from your mind. I can only, I mean that myself and others like me, can only become the images of another's mind."

"What happened?"

"I found something in the fields one day when I was playing." The young man looked at his feet and blushed.

"My canister," Spock gasped.

Yab'llul looked up, his mouth dropped. "You? You sent me the demon that transformed my world?"

Spock said nothing, letting the silence betray him. The creature looked over at a corner. "You can be forgiven if you just change me back."

"I cannot. Not unless…"

The boy rushed at him delivering a hard punch. "No! No! Now your whole ship will be consumed as my world was! If I cannot be saved no one can!"

Three black shadows went into the floor. Spock was left blinking in an empty room. "How fascinating."

Sitting up, he continued to prepare for when they arrived. Stopping only to intercom bridge and inform them off intruder alert. Sulu asked him who the intruder was and he replied, "Shadows."

Sulu was quiet afterwards. For a long time. Spock could not explain any more clearly.

**o-o-o-o **

Ensign Jones, a security officer walked, into the turbolift. He told the computer to take him to take him to sick bay. Lately his shoulder hurt on and off. At the moment however he was feeling something like a hand squeezing on his shoulder with increasing pressure.

He sure hopped the doctor could fix it.

As the doors reopened there was another medical condition plaguing him. He was dead. Still, Ensign Jones walked out a changed man. And the person on the floor? His face was so badly destroyed, none knew the better.

Jones' shoulder no longer hurt. In fact, he was feeling hungry. It was a week until they arrived at the planet, and he didn't mind a bit.

There was lots to do on a ship this size.

**To be continued **


	8. The Killing Moon

**Chapter Eight: The Killing Moon  
**There's little light here  
Underneath the Killing Moon  
Take your new shape,  
It's not a curse, it's a boon

Ensign Jin shuddered. "Jones is acting so freakish!" She looked over her shoulder at the doors to the recreational room. She hugged her arms around herself, feeling a chill in the ari. "I hope he doesn't come near me. Every time, I feel so …cold…"

"Like you do now?" her friend James said. He was a communications officer in training currently replacing the lost Uhura, and Jin was deeply in love with him. She just whished they had had more time together last night in the ship's Jacuzzi, before the Captain had interrupted them for his midnight swim.

Her eyes moved back to face him. He started down at the table and his voice stayed deep, "What are you feeling Jin?"

The table turned a sticky black and purple tentacles reached out, each grabbing her arm and pulling her in. James stood up and brushed her long black hair back. With one slender index finger he touched her exposed forehead. "Fear, Jin. It's called fear. Just admit it."

She screamed for help that did not come. Every nerve felt drained as she succumbed to fear and unconsciousness. He pulled away his finger and whispered, "good girl."

And although he was satisfied for his lunch meal, there was something else inside himself. A weird feeling, it made him enjoy fear less. He wondered if he was sick, and wished his mother was here to kiss him and make _tra'peak _soup. Shaking off momentary discomfort he moved on.

o-o-o-o _several days later _o-o-o-o

The Dutchman, a seafaring captain, took his ship _The Flying Dutchman _to the edge of the earth. He was condemned by heaven, spat out by hell and still drove his ship on. A crew of dead men was his to order about the boat, as he himself stayed breathing. It was a living death, no land in sight, a storm always to fight, and still the rudder stayed strong. Through it all he had one destination.

As the unofficial Captain, Spock shut off the computer terminal. Jim had made an off-handed comment about this particular legend, and Spock could see why. They were less than twenty-fours away from the planet and he was trying to un-code some answers on the terminal. It had been a seven day journey, but it seemed like seven years.

The week was taking a toll on him. He didn't meditate at night. He stayed alert always ever aware that the numbers of humans were growing less and less aboard this twisted version of_ Dutchman_. The crew begged the Vulcan Captain for words of encouragement, for a defense against their fears, for anything, and he could give them nothing.

Lights temporarily provided a defense, until one shadow found itself inside the computer and shut them off. Now all crew members wore a small compact flash light shaped like a flat square around their necks. The computers still worked, but only if you begged it.

Still they demanded he have a back-up plan. Kirk wasn't even giving him words anymore. He visited less, and every visit Spock had to wonder if it was him. Nothing he could be sure of. Sometimes a new shadow might try and taunt him, but he was strong enough to fight them.

Sometimes, he wondered if the shadows had won, and finally derailed the ship's course.

The only proof he had of his sanity was his mind. It was weak from lack of meditation and sleep. Still, he could sense when he was talking to a real mind. A real honest to god mind. It was hard not to reach out to Ensign Rand when she brought the daily report and meld. He wanted to feel someone else's problems, to know his were not so bad. He needed comfort. He needed Jim to be their Captain.

Because, if he stripped his mind to the basic facts, then the truth was this: he couldn't handle so many wanting his help…looking to him to save them…how could he? He had no facts to compute! Nothing to plan! No logic to organize!

No logic, none at all, and that was the illogical part of it. There was a snap inside his brain and he could feel everything falling apart. At the last possible second, a knock was on his door. He wasn't sure if it was real, but there was a human on the other side. He was happy, honestly relived, that someone was there to save him from shutting down mentally. Once more he had been pulled from the brink. Pushing back his chair he stood up, and clicked on his neon green light. The room was dull now, versus the black before.

"Come," he said calmly.

It would have been easier to just page him, but he did not want the shadows to follow his plans. Of course, in darkness the shadows were every where. The door opened and Sulu was there illuminated in yellow by his flashlight. "We're here sir."

It wasn't true of course, but if the shadows thought that they might take immediate action. Word spread fast on the _Dutchman,_ no, Spock had to mentally change that: Word spread fast on the _Enterprise__. _The _Dutchman _was still sailing at Cape Point on Earth today, but the _Enterprise_would move on to survive. He hoped at least, knowing hope was illogical.

"Good. Set the calculations into the transporter."

There was a flaw of course; they needed something to hit the monster with. A security blanket wasn't necessarily going to do the trick.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Throwing himself against the wall he was satisfied to hear a crack. A wave of enormous pain overcame his physical form, and that made him glad. Kirk knew he could be injured, and he had spent the last couple of days trying to find what it was that would make injuries permanent. In physical form any shadow creature could be hurt, but this information was useless. At this instant Kirk was bleeding as one bone, broken so badly, jutted out of his forearm. At least five other bones were broken across his body as he lay there on the gym floor mat.

"You're dead Jim," McCoy said biting into an apple as leaned with his back on the wall. "Seriously. If it weren't for me, you'd die."

Kirk knew it was true any human would be dead if they were as injured as he was. However, he was a shadow and his injuries disappeared as he melted and reformed. "Bones, you've been watching me these past few days. I'm trying to find a way to destroy shadows, even if it kills me! Can't you focus? Tell me if you've thought of something-"

"I know Jim! I KNOW! Who do you think has been your guard dog? If the other shadows found out for gods-sakes!"

They both turned their heads as they heard a soft sound inaudible to the human ear. Yba'llul was coming. Taking hiding places they watched as he slid in. This was usual behavior for him to visit here, yet for some odd reason he made rounds daily. A thought occurred to Kirk that had never before- If he could read other's fears and become their fears why couldn't he read Yab'llul? Focusing his unnatural skill, a slew of images hit him as Yab'ull crawled by.

As the shadow left, Kirk was left to replay the images.

"_Son? Yab'llul where are you!" The father's voice was rough, and Kirk suspected it would have sounded smooth in it's native tongue. _

"_Darling come to mommy!" At least her English came out a gentler. _

"_I told you not to let him play out here. What is this?" _

"_Not now, it's just a junk piece of canister. Oh Yab'llul is that you? Come out here now!"_

_And then his parents screamed. What had their son become? _

He was a kid, a little kid, and in another image, he was a king. A child, murderer of a nation and king of mutants.

" '_Shadows must feed on animals. No one else must be converted to our shadow society. To do so is death. As declared by your king,'" the announcement was proclaimed around and obeyed, making an unsteady peace for some time. From his throne for many years he watched his proclamations being fulfilled. He never aged more than the day his mutation began. _

It was there within reach, Kirk could sense the information he wanted. Focusing harder he sensed the next was a bitter memory. It was perfectly preserved in perfect detail as an important memory in Yba'llul's life. In this new memory Jim recognized the town square.

_A crowd was gathered, and in the center was a glass jar placed on a decorative table. Inside it was a shadow squirming and trying to become a hundred things hoping that at least one would help him escape. None of the shapes did anything to help._

_His movements froze as a shadow in it's original form with all black features walked out. It carried in its hands a decorative gold bowl filled with a mixture that had the constancy of salt, and was a dark purple._

"_The'ad Yba'llul, you are herby sentenced to die for crimes against the king," _a booming voice said from the corner.

_The executioner walked forward, he set the bowl on the table. Picking up The'ad in the glass jar he unscrewed the jar slowly. The lid came off with a pop. Now Kirk noticed the shadow was trying to stay in the jar as the executioner poured him into the bowl. The mixture bubbled and turned gray with random splotches of white. Indecipherable words were heard, and it looked like a hand reached out. Once more the mixture changed color to a bloody crimson, but this time it was silent. There was hardly a scream, the death was painful, but it was also instant._

_The Boy King sat on the throne in the back and whispered goodbye to his father, the man who murdered his mother and ate her fears. With a small bang the bowl shattered as the mixture imploded. The crowd dispersed, not sadden, not joyful. Their expressions were unreadable on their blank faces._

Kirk now knew what, and from another corner of the Boy King's mind he knew how. He turned to McCoy. "I know what we have to do."

McCoy shrugged and stod up, "What?"

Following suit, he stood up. "'Cmon, let's go to the chemist lab."

"Not like this." He gestured at himself.

Two ghosts of former Captain's floated down the hallway scaring a handful of crewmen. McCoy did not stop to feast with on them; he followed Jim straight into the chemical room. No words were spoken; McCoy read the formula from his mind. Together they worked in silence.

It took several liquids and one flour like substance, but hours later they saw what had been the fear of the Scare World. McCoy wiped the sweat off his brow, "Think it'll work?"

"Yes. I overheard Spock say we were at the planet. If I take it now, and it works, Spock can fix me, fix you, and then you can do your thing. Once all three of us are okay, we'll get Yab'llul."

"Yeah. Guess so. Since we know it'll implode I put something in that makes the death slower, it'll hurt like hell, but at you might still want explode. Makes everything easier since we have this cure."

Kirk nodded taking off the rubber gloves. "Alright, I'm going to Spock's. You can double check the calculations or something. Is the stuff sealed in an airtight bag?"

"Yeah, Jim. Be careful. Don't kill yourself," McCoy handed the bag to Kirk who was already melting. He took the bag and stuck it into his middle. Until he wanted it to come out it would stay hidden in darkness.

"I intend too."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Spock hefted the cattle prod. It was cranked up to lethal dosage. He hoped that it could kill the offending monster. But first he needed someone—no, they were no longer people—_something _to test it on.

Luckily, one was forming right in front of him. It was a human he recognized, but no longer trusted.

The neon green glow from his flashlight seemed to turn darker on Spock's face as he frowned.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Where was a good place? Where? Where? He needed a place to curl up and die. At least until this sickness passed, Yba'llul need to find a place to rest…die…to get over this pain! Fears had lost their taste, and in fact he had just stopped eating. It as if he could no longer taste fear, as if normal food would be adequate. That was impossible though, because he was this horrible thing that was so far from normal. Another thought came into his head, what if this was normal? A normal part of his mutation?

He wished there were others before him that could help him through it. First of his race as he was he had to endure it. To his surprise his body was talking shape in a form no mind near him had suggested. More importantly, there were no minds near him.

It was four legged with and a long tail. He arched his back and the fur bristled. It had pointed ears and a small protruded snout. This thing he was was muscular with a barrel chest. He had new silver eyes that gleamed with a small intelligence and pink tongue contrasted with the dark black of his exterior.

_I don't want this shape! I want to be a shadow! _

His body did not change back. The Boy King was again an outcast, but would others follow? He hoped that he still had telepathy.

o-o-o-o-o

A hundred thousand volts coursed through his fallen body. Still Spock kept poking him, screaming, "It is illogical for you to live! Die already!"

Blood was staining the carpet but Kirk had to keep conscious if he was to give Spock the poison. Melting, Kirk slid until he was behind Spock. He reshaped, and immediately had Spock in a choke hold. If not for the added strength Spock would have completely destroyed him by now.

"Spock, dammit! It's Jim! The Dutchman! Do you remember our conversation! Do you remember when I died for you on Vulcan? Do you remember anything of what our friendship was? Well, Spock I'm dying now and I need your help!"

Spock grunted, fighting so hard he dropped the cattle prod. His arms dropped to Jim's surprise, as if the resistance was completely drained. Spock said the most logical thing there was to say, "Queen, to Queen's level three."

He released Spock and replied, "Checkmate."

"Jim." Spock said sarcastically, eyeing him. "What news do you bring?"

Reaching inside his stomach he withdrew the small bag of poison. He was holding it up when Spock took a corner of it. "It's a poison. It'll kill me. And other's like me. Other's like Yba'llul."

Spock was pulling it towards himself as Kirk pulled it towards himself when the bag split open. A small bit only a fourth of what was used in the memory was spilled on to Kirk. He started shaking and groaning. "McCoy…can cure…change us back…kill the shadow…"

Spock had the glass jar open on his desk. Picking it up he let Kirk fall into it unconscious. "Unfortunately friend, we are sill two hours away from planet side but I will do my best…."

Jim and he had to get to the transporter room. He did not know how lethal the poison was and intended to push the engines to warp nine. He just knew that he had to act quickly. There was a scratching on his door, as if a wild beast was trying to get in. Clutching the jar tightly in one hand, he went to investigate. He sensed that there was mind on the other side, a wild chaotic mind with only one thought…

o-o-o-o-o-o

_Feed! Feed! I sense it's terror and I will feed! _It was satisfied that it's telepathy had stayed for it could tell the mind opening the door was confused and lost only pretending to be confidant.

As he jumped his claws attacking the man's arms. Giving a long howl of success he opened his mouth to sink fangs into his victim's neck. This was decidedly much more fun that playing out silly games and becoming silly little things.

Distracted with his own ego he did not see that the victim was raising his bloody left hand weakly upward, with a glass jar grasped in it's hand, ready to strike.

**_To be continued _**


	9. Becoming Familiar

**Chapter Nine: Becoming Familiar**

It's a familiar mockery-  
The way salvation eludes.  
I guess to keep praying,  
Would be hope for fools.

The ship sailed through the stars, looming closer to the dark planet. Inside her hallowed halls people went about their jobs, trance like immune to anymore news of death. No one cared at all anymore except to wonder when the next nightmare would come.

No one was around to care as Spock, breathing heavily, lifted the jar and brought down on his attacker. The glass shattered on Yba'llul's skull. A deep gash formed from his ear down to his neck. He howled in pain and backed up whimpering.

Using his arms to pull himself back a few feet, Spock grabbed a handful of the salt substance from the floor. Throwing it directly at Yba'llul, it infected the wound. Yba'llul had no choice but to run away, and preferably to Spock, die.

Spock wiped sweat from his forehead with his bloody sleeve. He was still sitting on the floor. Around him was a murky substance was rapidly changing color. Doing the best he could he placed the Captain in a decorative bowl he had nearby. He hoped he hadn't missed any of the liquid that could be Jim's hand…or worse.

Setting the bowl on his desk, he ran to engine room. Scotty, thank god, was still alive. Spock suspected it had something to do with alcohol. He wasn't going to question Scotty now on the logic of drinking until he was blacked out, there were more important things to do.

He just needed the engines to go faster.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Jim was glad Spock used the salt. He may have been dying at the time (and still dying), but he saw him use it on Yba'llul. He was damn glad Spock used it. Otherwise testing it on himself would have been pointless. Considering he may not make it. Of course, as long as his crew lived, then his own nightmare wouldn't come true. His life was nothing in comparison to 430 others.

Kirk wasn't sure where Spock had gone to. According to his information, they should have been there by now. He should have been human. The stuff was lethal and although he had not been exposed to much, he was sure of one thing: he would die without the cure.

Walking was the only choice. Taking form and going to the transporter room would be the only thing to do now. If he could just concentrate!

The efforts he made just made the bowl wobble a bit. At this point though he was just trying to stay alive, and move past the pain.

Bones walked into the room, actually slid into the room depending how you looked at it. "How ya doing?" He asked the question while tossing an apple core into Spock's trash can.

Kirk groaned, "where…Spock?"

"Engine room. We're ten minuets away," he lied. It was triple that and he knew it.

"Help…Spock…turn….lights…on…"

"I'll see you soon, Jim." McCoy whispered taking a worried glance back at his friend before disappearing.

Kirk groaned again. Whatever he was, he was bubbling now. A sign of near death.

McCoy sunk deep inside the _Enterprise_, if someone could turn them off, he could turn it on. Wiggling about, he wormed the secrets from the _Enterprise__._ To Spock's great surprise the world went form the green of his flashlight to bright yellow.

The engines were pushing. He had told Kirk it would take thirty minutes, but he was praying it would be less. There was nothing more he could do here in the engines with the swearing Scotty ("lookit the damn lights Spock!"). Spockbheaded towards his room.

He picked up the bowl and looked down into it. "Jim, we are almost there, I'm going to carry you to the transporter room. But you need to tell me where the cure is."

"Chem…lab…, oh god Spock…make me…" Kirk left the last word unspoken: _human. _He knew that if we were to live that one word was going to be his mantra.

"I'll save you soon."

o-o-o-o-o-o

The first place he ran too was the transporter room. He lay across the pads. Racing with his heart was his thoughts: _Why did I come here! Why! God oh why! _This was the place were it begin, were he had first smelt that awful smell. That metallic smell. This different world, this strange new world! On the nights when he had been here, he had wondered why he had chosen to go. Sometimes he told himself that it was because he wanted to conquer something and be more important to his subjects. But he knew the cold hard truth: he ran to get away from the memories and from a legacy he had created.

The poison inside him speed the process of death. He clenched and unclenched his paws, extending and retracting his claws. Then in his prayer for relief, the wound's pain lessened.

_I never wanted to be hated or a monster. I just want to be a kid again! I want my parents! _

Yab'llul imploded, making his black spot on the _Enterprises' _wall permanent. Some would later saw that if you looked closely enough there was a black heart on the wall. Others saw a crown. The general consent agreed that is was a skull, plain and simple.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Spock cringed when he saw the blood on the walls. He whispered into the bowl, "Try not to slide away from the pad."

He let the Captain pool onto the transporter pad. Contacting the bridge he informed Sulu of what he was about to try. As Spock was double checking his calculations he heard Kirk moan, "cannot…wait…"

The plan was simple; everyone's pattern was in the computer. Should Spock beam Kirk down with the pattern he would be good as new--- hopefully. That is if Jim did not implode first.

He pulled on the leaver.

o-o-o-o-o-o

At the end of seven days, the world had been reborn. Where fear had ruled before, now madness ruled. Without a king they were free to feed on anyone or anything. No death penalty, or childish rules. The downfall: without a king they could not find guidance as mutation began. Falling asleep to screams had become a daily routine over the past week.

First they didn't understand if it was a plague or a natural part of their lives. In the end they were each a black beast. They became a society ripping at each other's throats.

Kirk stayed huddled on the ground. The last thing he was wearing, and wore now, was a pair of white boxers from the infirmary. He was tired. He was losing it rapidly. The shock of changing into something new made him temporarily insane. He did not comprehend what was happening as he was beamed back aboard the _Enterprise__. _At first he thought it was a sick joke when he saw all the black blood, but then an alien face picked him up and carried him into another room.

"Swallow, it Jim, quickly!"

The rushed emotion in this voice sounded unfamiliar, but he swallowed it. Effects were as immediate as the unconsciousness.

Checking Kirk's pulse Spock turned over to the comm. unit. "Sulu, put me on ship wide intercom."

"**_Attention, shadows, if you wish to become human come to transporter room three! If not death traps will be put out." _**

Carrying Kirk one room over to infirmary he ran to the transporter room. There was a lot of work to be done and a lot of people to be found. To the people of this ship the news was good. They looked up from their hiding places on the dead ship, and they began to care about what fate lay ahead.

**_.:to be continued:._**


	10. Tattered

**Chapter Ten: Tattered**  
I found myself in a dream  
The tattered remnants of my soul  
Wouldn't have lasted if  
You hadn't made me whole

She nestled herself in the communications equipment were she felt most at home. When Spock's voice came across the wires, she heard it first. She was happy, and her happiness made static on the intercom. Naturally, she was the first to the transporter. She became wispy smoke, and in gentle tones told Spock her name. He didn't believe her at first, and so she had to prove it. When she was re-beamed onto the _Enterprise_s she had to blink to clear her mind. That first breath of air was a relief.

She felt like a brand new person freshly awoken from a nightmare. Spock raised an eyebrow, "Uhura?"

She turned to him and smiled, "Why yes that's me."

o-_o two days later_-o-o

He may not have been dead, but he was alive. Something on the planet's surface must have scratched him because he his arms were cut and his head felt sore. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he tossed aside the blanket and stood up. Spock was dead on the floor. As he walked through the corridors he only saw death. After everything, after his near death, they were still all dead.

His ship…his world…his nightmare. How could this happen? Hadn't he just given his life from them? Maybe that was it: he was dead. Surely he was dead, and this was hell. He had failed them all, and he was dead! He screamed as he slammed his fists into the nearest wall. Surprisingly, the wall gave way.

He sat up screaming. McCoy shook him awake mumbling _finally. _Wiping sleep from his eyes Kirk sat straight up. "What happened?"

"You almost died."

"Me and everyone else." Kirk was still trying to catch his breath. The room around him was completely clear of bodies (as far as he could see) and if the doctor was alive everyone else must have lived.

McCoy explained that he was the only one in danger, due to the poison. Everyone else was doing just fine. Yba'llul was the only exception.

"What happened to him?"

"The poison."

Kirk looked at McCoy and he vaguely remembered the bloody transporter room. After a moment of silence McCoy added, "The rest of the planet…they all transformed just like their Yba'llul—into that hound thing. Anyway, you should relax."

"I've had enough sleep, Bones. It feels like I've been in a dream this whole time and I only remember bits and pieces."

McCoy smiled, "You can go to your quarters if you want now. I'll fill you in on what happened at dinner."

McCoy went into his office and came out with the Captain's clothes. Pulling the green shirt over his head Kirk voiced his opinions. "So no gold braid? Spock's up there? I thought he would have been asleep."

"We needed logic, Jim. You weren't there. We needed a leader."

Kirk's face darkened, "Don't say that. I will always be there to protect my crew: always there. Do not ever say that I won't."

He stormed out mentally adding, _I almost died to protect my crew. _

o-o-o-o-o-o

The ship was sluggish, slow, and tired. Spock was too. He never showed it though; he just sat in the Captain's chair waiting for Jim to come back. It was funny in a weird sense, but when he had carried Jim to the chemistry room, Jim had mumbled repeatedly, "…order. Must have logic, not madness….the madness…need order. … Must..."

Somehow it had encouraged him. He found what he needed to last out this nightmare: someone else giving him strength. Slowly after that he had helped people back into natural form. Things had became normal at a snail's pace. He was still missing a few things though. Like the Captain, and maybe a good game of chess.

When the turbolift opened he heard that familiar voice and he nearly fell over from exhaustion. The voice came over to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder, "It's okay Spock, I'm relieving you of command, go meditate…"

He raised one eyebrow, and blinked. "Are you sure Captain?"

"Yeah, Spock, I'm sure. It'll be fine." Kirk had calmed down in the turbolift but still had many thoughts in his head.

_It will be now, _Spock thought as he walked to the turbolift. "I'll see you at dinner then," he said before letting the doors close, "would you like to play chess tonight?"

"That'd be great, something nice and normal." Jim smiled at the joke.

Spock let the doors close before he smiled.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The great thing about chess is the fact that it helps focus you mind. It takes you away from your other problems. Tonight however, the two men were deep in thought, hesitating before they said anything. Kirk was still wondering if he made the right choices. Spock was wondering if, as a leader, he had done as good a job as Kirk would have.

"That's just it Spock, we destroyed an _entire _civilization, we almost destroyed ourselves…"

"But Jim, we survived."

"We always do. They never do. It's just that… is this going to? With Starfleet and all? Is this the end?"

It was a good question Spock had to admit. He remembered a time when he had wondered what to do after his own little situation. He'd let it—that canister, the problem—fly away. It'd only caused more chaos. If they had just secured the problem and stopped it entirely, then maybe they and others would have been safe.

Spock wondered if Kirk was proposing the logical solution, ending Starfleet once and for all. Interrupting Spock's thoughts, Jim added, "What do you think Spock?"

Spock opened his mouth to reply.

**_the end_**


End file.
